


You Had Me At "Deductible"

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Insurance Fraud, Marriage Fraud, Marriage of Convenience, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tabloids, identity theft, injuries, trophy husband
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: After Hal breaks a bone on patrol, Bruce takes concern to his lack of financial security. Luckily, Bruce has a plan that just might work for both of them.
Relationships: Hal Jordan & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	1. You Had Me At "Deductible"

So there wasn’t  _ that much  _ blood. Really, there wasn’t. He’d taken a nasty punch to the face. Nothing he couldn’t handle. And sure, maybe his nose was broken and would heal back a little crooked, but his face had never been particularly perfect anyway. Besides. Didn’t some people find asymmetry attractive?

The broken wrist though.

That was going to be a little more… difficult to deal with. 

Hal winced when Ollie lifted his hand, biting back a string of swear words that would have made his former CO blush. “Yeah, that’s bad,” Ollie winced.

“No shit,” Hal rolled his eyes and made a point to look anywhere but at his wrist that was  _ definitely  _ not supposed to be able to bend at that angle.

“Can you walk?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my wrist was connected to my leg,” Hal snapped. 

Ollie shook his head and helped him to his feet. “Anything else hurt?”   


“Oh you know, just my fragile male ego.”

He made the mistake of glancing down at his hand, wincing when it looked exactly as bad as he’d expected it to. Swollen and floppy, but hey, at least the bone wasn’t poking out, right?

Amazing how something didn’t really hurt until you looked at it.

“You should really, really get that looked at,” Ollie commented as they navigated through the streets. 

“Whatever,” Hal muttered, quickly forming a construct brace. “It’ll be fine.” Besides. He’d gotten through nasty injuries with tylenol and an ice pack before. He’d be fine. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly keen on spending thousands of dollars to get it taken care of properly. Not with a 13 thousand dollar deductible (yes, three zeroes) and a 40 percent copay. No sir, no thank you.

“Seriously, man,” Ollie turned to look at him, eyes dead serious for once. “You need to get that looked at.”

“It’s fine, Ollie.”

“It’s so not fine.”

“Can you just drop it?” Hal snapped.

“You know, if you need help paying for it, you can always…”

“Yeah, if you could just. You know. Kill me now. That’d be great.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

He heard Ollie mutter something under his breath, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. 

“There you two are,” a voice said from behind them. And here Hal thought the day wouldn’t get any worse. But no. Fate had always been out to get him. So of-fucking-course Batman had to be the one to find them first. “Lantern, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, Spooky,” Hal groaned, not bothering to turn to look at him. 

“He broke his wrist,” Ollie supplied, and Hal turned to glare at him.

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.”

“You need a doctor,” Bruce said, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Coming from the man who fights crime in a fursuit.”

“At least we know he didn’t hit his head?” Ollie offered.

“You know my hearing wasn’t damaged, right?” Hal snapped. He groaned as the adrenaline high started to drop and the pain in his wrist started to grow. Funny how things didn’t really hurt until you started to pay attention to them. Against his better judgement, he looked back down at it. The construct brace had faded away and it was definitely swollen, and  _ definitely  _ not supposed to bend like that.    


“Closest ER is about five blocks from here,” Batman commented, and a panicked feeling swept through Hal. ER meant bills. Big ones. Big ones that he couldn’t really afford to pay when his Green Lantern gig kept him from holding down a steady nine-to-five.

“Can’t we just look at it at the Watchtower?” Hal groaned, leaning further into Ollie’s side, more tired than he wanted to let them onto.

“Medbay isn’t quite ready yet,” Batman responded. Because of course it wasn’t. Because why in the hell would Hal be that lucky.

“Look, Hal, I already offered to…” Ollie started, but the look Hal shot him must have been strong enough to shut him up. 

It wasn’t that Hal didn’t need the help (he did). But he would rather not injure his pride on top of everything else.

A tense moment passed between the three of them, and Hal wasn’t entirely sure Bruce and Ollie weren’t going to gang up on him and drop his sorry ass off at the hospital door anyway. 

“I have an idea,” Bruce said after what subjectively felt like hours and was probably objectively closer to thirty seconds. “You won’t like it.”

* * *

Barry Allen and Hal Jordan looked nothing alike. But, thankfully, the staff at the local hospital didn’t know that. Those names meant nothing to them, and whoops Hal’s ID was in his wallet, which had suspiciously gone missing. In a glove compartment. Of the batmobile.

Hal leaned against the waiting room chair, staring up at the shitty fluorescent lighting attached to the shitty drop ceiling, wondering where in his life he’d gone so wrong as to commit both identity theft and insurance fraud on the same night.

“What’s your name?” Bruce asked, sitting beside him. They’d stopped so Bruce and Ollie could change into civvies, shoving a Tylenol in Hal’s hand (he was pretty sure it was a Tylenol PM, the bastards) to tide him over until he could get the good drugs. 

“Barry Allen,” Hal responded without missing a beat.

“Date of birth?”   


“March 14th…”

“Nineteenth.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you want to get this looked at or not?” Bruce snapped, and Hal flinched. “Gee Spooky, I don’t know,” Hal responded, turning to shoot him an annoyed look. “What part of ‘I don’t need a hospital, I can deal with this at home’ did you not understand? I know that’s a lot of words for your obsessed little brain to handle. I can make them smaller if you want.”

“You’re right,” Bruce turned to talk to Ollie, sitting on Hal’s opposite side. “He didn’t hit his head.”

“You know, I’m really wishing I had a head injury right about now,” Hal groaned and turned to glance at the clock. They’d been there three hours already, but he figured that was a good sign. Meant he wasn’t dying. Probably. Unless his bone had sliced an artery and he was bleeding out. But that probably wasn’t too likely. 

Yeah.

The guy with the kitchen knife sticking out of his chest probably needed to be seen before him anyway.

“Barry Allen?” a nurse called from the doorway. Must have been a hell of a coincidence if there was a Barry Allen here. Though it probably wasn’t that uncommon of a name. He started to move to rest his head on Ollie’s shoulder when Bruce elbowed him in the ribs.

“What?” Hal snapped, turning to glare at him.

“Barry Allen?” the nurse called again, and Hal groaned.

Right.

He was supposed to be Barry Allen.

He stood up and made his way over to the door, rolling his eyes as Ollie shouted “Good luck,” behind him, starting to think that of all the stupid decisions he’d made in his life, this was probably somewhere near the top.

* * *

“All right, Mr. Allen,” the doctor said as he came into Hal’s partitioned off segment of the ER. A thin curtain on a tension rod separated him from a kid who was terrified of blood (the nurse had told him it was ketchup going into the bag) on one side, and a dude who had been in a bar fight (pain is an ELEVEN, man, an ELEVEN) on the other. “X-ray shows a nasty break in your wrist, but we think we can set it non-surgically.”

Hal let out a sigh of relief and winced when the doctor picked up his wrist. At least they’d given him the good stuff to block out most of the pain, even if the meds did make him sick to his stomach and more than a little bit drowsy.

“So tell me about what you do for a living,” the doctor commented as he examined Hal’s injury.

“I’m a…”  _ Test pilot shit no.  _ “Forensic investigator.”

“You must see a lot, then,” the doctor hummed, and Hal nodded. He figured he could fudge some Corps stories to make it sound convincing.

“Yeah, man, you wouldn’t believe half the shit people do... JESUS CHRIST,” he shouted when his wrist was very much back at a straight angle. “You could warn a guy!”

“You would have tensed up,” the doctor shrugged.

“Bastard,” Hal muttered under his breath as he continued to work.

* * *

“I coulda flown myself home,” Hal commented, resting his head against the window of the batmobile. His ring was still mostly charged and it wasn’t like he’d flown on worse injuries. But Bruce had made up some bullshit about flying on pain meds (they didn’t even give him morphine, god Bruce) and Hal had been too tired to really try and argue it.

Besides. The beds at Wayne Manor were probably way nicer than what he was used to anyway.

“You’re high on Dilaudid,” Bruce responded without missing a beat. 

“Am not,” Hal rolled his eyes and watched the city fly by, wondering how fast they were going. 

“You’re acting like a child.”

“Am  _ not.”  _

Bruce didn’t respond to that, which was probably smart on his part, much as Hal hated to admit Bruce Wayne was actually smart. He shut his eyes and focused on the hum of the engine, trying to let it lull him to sleep, easier said than done when Bruce fucking Wayne was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“You didn’t have to help me out, you know,” he muttered after a moment of tense silence. He would have been fine, really. So his bank account would have been overdrawn for a few months and he’d have to pick up a few odd jobs, but whatever, right? He opened his eyes and glanced over at Bruce.

“You’re an idiot, Jordan,” Bruce sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. So much for relaxed, then. “The League has an assistance fund. You could have…”

Hal laughed at that. A dry, humorless thing. “Applied to it?” he finished Bruce’s sentence for him. “So you can all see my 500 credit score and four dollar checking balance? No thanks.”

A heavy silence hung between them, and Hal thought about trying to fake sleep. At least then neither would feel the need to talk.

In the end, it was Bruce who broke it.

“I have a thousand dollar deductible,” he spoke, voice even, like he was talking business at a board meeting. “Twenty-five dollar copay primary care, forty dollar specialist. One-fifty ER.”

“Well good for you,” Hal rolled his eyes. 

“I also have vision and dental. Life insurance. Hell. I have pet insurance on Titus.”

“You really know how to rub salt in a wound, huh?” Hal glared.

“I can add immediate family,” Bruce continued.

“Oh good, so your small army of children is covered.”

“Would you shut up and listen for a minute?!”

Hal rolled his eyes again and folded his arms across his chest.

“What I’m getting at,” Bruce sighed and rolled a shoulder back. “Is that we could form an… arrangement.” Hal raised an eyebrow at that. He was high as a kite, yeah, but he was still pretty sure this conversation wasn’t headed where he thought it was heading. “You would get coverage.”

“And you would get?” Hal pressed. Because no one ever did things just to be nice. There had to be something in it for Bruce.

“Nothing,” Bruce admitted, and Hal was inclined to believe him for once. “Just… consider it. When you’re sobered up.”

Hal was silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Hey Bruce?” A grunt confirmed the older man was listening. “You had me at deductible.”


	2. You Had Me At "Publicity Stunt"

“Is this really necessary?” Hal asked, falling into step beside Bruce. He fought the urge to roll his wrist, glaring down at the brace wrapped around it. Really. They couldn’t have made something more uncomfortable if they tried. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more than a little surprised that Bruce hadn't thought better of his little proposition by the time he’d filled out the paperwork for the first bill (Barry really did have damn good insurance. It almost made him sick), but here they were.

“We have to make it look real,” Bruce answered as he pushed the door to the jeweler open. Hal muttered something under his breath, but didn’t repeat it when Bruce snapped his head around to look at him. It was uncanny, really, how he always seemed to know when someone was doing something they shouldn’t be. He rolled his eyes and glanced around the store, wrapping his good arm around himself.

Places like this always had made him more than a little uncomfortable and had a way of making him feel more than a little out of place. He glanced down at his beat up jeans and faded shirt, standing in stark contrast to Bruce’s tailored button-up and khakis.  _ ‘What?’  _ Bruce had asked on their way out the door.  _ ‘I’m going casual.’ _

“Ah, Mr. Wayne,” a woman in a tailored black dress smiled as she approached them. Her artificially white smile faltered just a bit as she glanced at Hal, but she recovered. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it. “And this is?”   


Hal glanced at Bruce, deciding to let him take the lead. This whole thing had been his idea after all. Besides. He wasn’t sure if he should be the one to drop that particular f-bomb. It wasn’t like this was anything more than a convenience, after all. Hell. He still hadn't told Barry or Ollie about their little arrangement.

“My fiancé,” Bruce answered without hesitation. Hal tuned him out as he made small talk with the saleswoman. The same-ole same-ole of ‘Oh! Congratulations!’ and ‘Tell me about how you met,’ even though she only cared about the sale in the end. He’d gone through this already when he’d proposed to… He shook his head to clear it. That had been a long time ago.

She’d probably laugh him out of her office if she heard what he was about to do.

A twinge of pain radiated up his arm and he glanced down at his wrist. He’d gotten damn lucky that was the only thing he’d broken. He really couldn’t keep playing with fire. And hey, Bruce had promised to ignore him a majority of the time, so that was great. He’d even said he’d make sure Hal gets to keep some stuff in the pre-nup. So really, there were worse ways to go about this, he figured.

“All right, Mr. Jordan,” the woman smiled and led him by the arm to a case full of rings and watches that probably cost more than he made in a year. Bruce had instructed him to ‘pick out whatever he wanted’ and that thought still made him a little sick to his stomach. But hey. The press would want details on whatever Bruce got him when he popped the question, and ‘a thousand dollar deductible with a negligible copay at the ER’ wasn’t exactly romantic.

Not that anything about this was really romantic to begin with.

“So,” the woman continued as she unlocked the case, pulling a few options out. “Mr. Wayne tells me you hate yellow. So we’ll just avoid these here.” She set a few of the things aside before setting more out on top of the glass. “He also mentioned something about purple being out.” Hal frowned slightly and glanced over at Bruce, who was busy making small talk with a salesman who couldn’t have been older than 19. “Do you prefer something flashier or more subdued?” he blinked and turned to glance at her, processing the question.

“Uh, subdued, I guess,” he said with a shrug. His Green Lantern ring was flashy enough. She nodded and hummed as she glanced at the selections she’d pulled. Hal bit back a comment that it didn’t matter. All the bands looked the same anyway. 

“So,” Bruce spoke, draping an arm around Hal’s shoulder. Hal fought the urge to tense up. He and Bruce were definitely not friends who touched. “Any luck?”

* * *

“This is insane,” Hal spoke as he got into the car. “Like. Completely and totally insane. You realize that, right?”

Bruce slid into the driver's side, starting the engine before turning and glancing over at him. “You don’t have to do this,” he spoke, voice calm and even in a way that made Hal want to punch him square in the face. “You can back out of this at any time.”

Hal chewed at his lower lip and stared out the window, not caring that the car wasn’t even moving yet. “Even after we… You know. Go through with this? If we go through with this?”

“Even then,” Bruce nodded before turning to see better as he backed out of the parking space. “This isn’t exactly a traditional marriage,” he added. “You realize that, right?” Hal glared at his own words being thrown back at him.

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” he pressed, every instinct in him screaming to run. It was always easier to run. To ignore things in the hopes that they’d eventually go away, even when he knew things never really worked out like that.

“If I wasn’t sure, would I have just spent that much money on a piece of metal?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Hal rolled his eyes and glanced down at the bag in his lap. City streets faded into highway lanes. Some soft rock channel was playing on the radio, but Hal didn’t mind it too much. It filled the space, at least. Something was eating at him, though, and he needed to bring it up. “You can back out to, you know.”

“I am aware, Hal,” Bruce spoke without turning to glance at him. Probably a smart move since he was pretty sure they were doing 70 in a 55. 

“Just… This is me giving you an out, okay?”

“I gathered that.”

“So what’s our plan on like… other people?” he asked tentatively.

“Do you really want to do this right now?” Bruce sighed and turned the radio volume down.

“Would you rather talk about the weather? It sucks here, you know.”

A ghost of a smile formed on Bruce’s face, and Hal was content to take that particular victory. “You do realize we won’t actually be married, right?”

“Yeah, the marriage license is gonna say different,” Hal responded, shifting to get a better look at Bruce.

“I don’t care if you want to see anyone if you offer me that same courtesy.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hal nodded. A silence fell over them again, and he didn’t like it. He’d never been particularly comfortable with quiet. He fought the urge to start babbling off about something, figuring Bruce probably wouldn’t want to hear every little thing that popped into his head. The silence lasted about two mile markers before he couldn’t take it anymore. “Can we like. Not do the PDA thing?”

Bruce frowned at that. “What PDA thing?”   


“Back in the store,” Hal elaborated, only to get an even more confused look from Bruce. “The arm?” Bruce’s confused expression deepened before he blinked and shook his head. “Just. We’re not there.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded and pulled into the exit lane. 

“God, this is weird,” Hal muttered and glanced back out the window. Bruce made a noise of agreement but didn’t add anything else to the comment. And it was, really. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to get himself into this mess. But hey. Friends helped each other out, right? And as much as he hated, absolutely  _ hated  _ to admit it, Bruce was a friend.

Plus Ollie was already married and Iris might be upset with him if he tried to marry Barry for his benefits package.

“Why are you doing this anyway?” Hal asked as Bruce pulled into the driveway. “What’s in it for you?”

“Why does there have to be something in it for me?” Bruce killed the engine and turned to face him, body language more open than Hal could ever remember seeing him. 

“There’s always a catch. And don’t tell me this is all about me being able to afford an x-ray. You could’ve just put me on Wayne Enterprises payroll and hoped no one questioned it. Hell. That probably would have been less paperwork for you.”

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before opening them again. “I’m a little sick of being Gotham’s most well-known bachelor, and to be honest, I could use some publicity on, well, the Bruce Wayne side of things.”

“So you marry a nobody test pilot from the opposite side of the country that no one has ever seen you with before? Sorry, Spooks, but something isn’t quite adding up here.”

“And you look too far into things,” Bruce said. “It’s a win for both of us, Jordan.”

“Okay,” Hal nodded and got out of the car. “But I want pink champagne at the wedding. And a chocolate cake.”

Bruce shook his head and laughed lowly before following his lead. “I think we can make that happen.”

Hal shut the door and leaned against the garage wall, studying Bruce for a moment, not caring if he noticed. “You’re a good person, you know. Even if it might kill you to admit that.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “Was that a compliment?”

“Take it, Spooks,” Hal called over his shoulder as he headed inside. “You only get one a month.”


End file.
